


The Apprentice

by Toodleoo



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Beginnings, F/M, Hogwarts, Hogwarts Professors, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-10
Updated: 2016-05-10
Packaged: 2018-06-07 13:24:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6806698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toodleoo/pseuds/Toodleoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The balance of power between a master and their apprentice could be uncomfortable, but the pink robes were just <i>ghastly</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Apprentice

"Tell me again how it all works?" Hermione asked. She helped herself to a proffered Ginger Newt and stirred a teaspoon of honey into her cup.

"Whatever do you mean, Miss Granger?" asked Minerva McGonagall. She sat behind the elaborately carved desk in the headmistress's office, poised as ever, with a rigidity that belied her years.

"I suppose," Hermione replied, "I'm just a little confused about this whole apprenticeship system."

"My dear girl," the Headmistress stated in a matter-of-fact manner, "the apprentice signs off for a yearlong contract under a master, with a series of projects to complete and a licensing examination at the end of the year."

Hermione shook her head. "No, I understand that. What I don't get is how I made it through six years of schooling here without ever seeing one of these fabled apprentices."

Minerva frowned. "They're not supposed to be a part of the regular Hogwarts community. If a Hogwarts professor happens to take one on, the apprentice will live and work on the premises, but other than that, they're not to socialize with underage students. Most apprentices are eighteen or nineteen years old, but there's no age restriction on the program."

Dunking her Newt into her tea, Hermione looked around the office, eying the portraits who were all eavesdropping on the conversation. "How many apprentices were taken during my years as a student?"

"Four," Minerva replied without batting an eye. "I had Eunice Montjoy during your first year, Professor Flitwick took on Pip Vance during your second year, and Professor Vector had two that went on to become Unspeakables."

Hermione nodded, amazed that she'd missed out of four people wandering through the castle walls unbeknownst to the majority of the children there. Some niggling questions remained, though. "And the apprentice must agree, carte blanche, to whatever their master wants? That seems a bit extreme."

"It's only for ten months," McGonagall confirmed. "The apprentice must also wear the traditional robes for the duration."

Hermione shuddered at the magenta monstrosities that the headmistress was holding up. _Hideous, utterly hideous_ , she thought. Nobody with any self-respect would put those on. At least not in public. "Who oversees this program?" she asked. "It seems like the master or mistress in charge could take advantage of their apprentice."

"Are you suggesting that I condone any untoward behavior in this institution, Miss Granger?" McGonagall asked, her voice as cool as the evening breeze that drifted through the open windows.

Hermione backpedaled quickly. "Of course not!"

Headmistress McGonagall handed the paperwork over and passed a quill to the young woman seated across from her. "Then you won't have any issues signing."

* * *

After six years at Gringotts developing her skills in Arithmancy with the goblins, Hermione was returning to Hogwarts.

It was a strange feeling, knowing she was coming back to the place that had been her first home in the Wizarding world. The last time she had lived there was during the rebuilding in the months after the Battle of Hogwarts, but she had been surrounded with friends then—Luna and Ginny and Dean were there, and Susan and Hannah and Justin. They'd all lived in tents on the grounds together, the dormitories having been turned over to the professors and Ministry officials and Aurors who were leading the reconstruction efforts.

Hermione had gone back and forth between restoring the library and assisting Madame Pomfrey in the hospital wing. She tended ripped books with as much tenderness as she did the patients recovering from spell damage, brewing the potions the matron needed to heal Lavender Brown and Remus and Tonks. She even assisted with Theodore Nott and Gregory Goyle. Severus Snape, too, whose survival had been quite the surprise for everyone.

In a few months' time, the patients and the castle itself were about as healed as they were going to get, and everyone went on the merry way.

As for Hermione? Well, she headed off to begin her indentured servitude in repayment for the havoc she had wreaked upon the place during the war. It had taken three years to cover the damages to the tunnel system below ground and another eight months for the dragon she'd flown to freedom. The last two and a half years, Hermione had signed with the bank as a freelance consultant, earning all sorts of honours and credentials with her impressive skills.

So much time had passed, and now she was finally coming home to Hogwarts to work with her former professor. This whole apprentice business made her nervous—hell, Snape _alone_ made her nervous—but she knew it would be good for her career.

* * *

The day she moved in was a hot one.

She'd packed up her flat in boxes for the house-elves to move over before her arrival, but she hadn't the heart to let them at any of the unpacking. They had plenty of other daily tasks, and she didn't want to overwhelm them with work. Besides, if she was going to live at Hogwarts now, she wanted to get situated herself.

The heat was unbearable and the summer humidity left the air stale, so Hermione had stripped down to shorts and a vest while she alphabetized her book collection and sorted her closet by fabric weight, color, and function.

Hermione was apprehensive to discover that the apprentice's rooms were adjacent to the master's or mistress's rooms. Wouldn't it be psychologically necessary for there to be some kind of physical space between two people working together so closely?

She'd deal with that later.

In the meanwhile, she toiled away, stopping every so often to get a drink of lemonade or wipe the gathering sweat off her brow. Her hair had grown in size at the rate of roughly one inch in diameter per hour, so by the early afternoon, she had needed to wrestle it into a bun to keep it from overtaking her whole head.

She had almost forgotten about her apprentice meeting taking place later on in the day, but then a clearing of the throat alerted her to the presence of another person.

She looked up, taking in the vision of Severus Snape for the first time in years. Time had put a little more muscle on his bones, but he would never be a handsome man. He was dressed in his old black teaching robes, buttoned all the way to the top of his throat, and he was staring at her attire with disdain, looking at her as if he were taking in a flattened skunk on the side of the motorway.

He nodded in her general direction. "Granger."

She plastered a grin on her face, trying to make this meeting a friendly one. "Snape."

"I was thinking that we should forgo the traditional apprentice robes," he stated coolly. "They are, of course, completely unnecessary as reinforcements of educational status, and the color is absurd."

"Were you?" she asked. "I find that I don't mind them."

"I'm sure you wouldn't," he scoffed.

"Let's keep the robes."

"Let's not."

"There are spells woven into the cloth for protection," she said.

"When an apprentice is careful, you must concede that simple black will suffice," he replied.

Hermione smiled sweetly, but her voice was firm. "Perhaps I was unclear, Snape. I know you're only apprenticing under me in order to gain a secondary mastery, and I know this is only my first year teaching at Hogwarts, but while you're working under me, you're wearing the damned robes."

He winced in anticipation.

Arithmancy Mistress and Professor Hermione Granger pulled out her wand, and with a swish and flick, Severus Snape's robes turned a most violent shade of pink.


End file.
